Last night after dinner, the sun came out while the sky was still black and misty. I whispered to Will conspiratorially, “Let’s look for rainbows!” And when we opened the front door, there it was:
We called everybody to come look, took pictures, gazed on glory, filled our souls.
As I was explaining how rainbows can only exist when there is rain and sun at the same time, I thought about holy moments, and how finding thankfulness through the rain of the everyday chaos miraculously produces a rainbow of joy in my heart. Christ in me, the hope of glory.
When I opened the front door again a few minutes after taking those photos, the glory had faded, veiled in cloud. Ephemeral. Like all we have, all we are. Just grasses, here today-- tomorrow withered and faded.
This morning Will woke up, came in to the kitchen, and said, “Is the rainbow still there?”
And of course, yesterday's glory was yesterday's. Today the slate is clean for finding new glory...
This is what it means to live as sojourners: finding glory in each new moment, always moving yet always at home, always grieving yet always at peace, always sorrowful yet always rejoicing.
Living always with the hope of glory.
And these shining words: “Christ in you, the hope of glory” resounding in my soul, last week, this week (continuing on with Colossians in a Year: 2 Verses a Week)… this hope resounding, remaining.
My dad loves to say, “Life is hard, and then you die!”
My adaptation: “Life is sometimes mud puddles, but if you look there are glimpses of glory, to make you long for heaven... and then you die and are enveloped in Christ and His glory for always!”
“...Christ in you, the hope of glory.”